


Finding Pride

by Im_AtSoup



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bisexuality, Boys Kissing, Boys' Love, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Falling In Love, Gay Keith (Voltron), Homophobia, Homosexuality, I have no idea how long this is going to be, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Internalized Homophobia, Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Korean Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, Learning to love oneself, M/M, Pride, Recovery, Support, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 08:56:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18070346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_AtSoup/pseuds/Im_AtSoup
Summary: The hardest decision he's ever made thus far in his 19 years of life was to tell his family that he was Bisexual. He had been so sure that it was an aspect of himself that would be accepted with open arms. But instead it was recieved with confusion and fear. His Mama was scared of what the world would do to him once he left the safety of the nest so under the guidance of his beloved uncle? Lance is prompted to enroll in a Conversion program. Rehab for the confused.Should be easy right? He knew who he was and nothing was going to change that.Until he started spiraling. Loosing himself along every therapy session he's made to take part in until he couldn't take it anymore and runs. Leaving everything behind in one fell swoop in his attempt to find just a moment of peace from all the preassure. Running across the street like a crazy J-Walker? Not the plan, but it leads to meeting this edgy gay mullet..who picks up the pieces and shows him what it really means to love himself as he is. Not as what people want him to be.





	1. Diary of a Lost Man

**Author's Note:**

> || I have no excuses for starting this. If I can hack it? It'll be a three chapter fic at most just to take a break from the utter slump in writing I've been having lately.. 
> 
> But here is some info about the fic thus far; 
> 
> All characters are aged up.  
> • Keith is 21 years old.  
> • Lance is 19.  
> • Pidge is 17.  
> • Hunk is also 19.  
> • Shiro is 27  
> • so is Allura.  
> • Matt is also 27..so the main age changes were just in the younger paladins because how does one portray teens? Idk. 
> 
> If by any means this topic is to rough to read over? Then don't read it. Also please have patience, I have no idea how this idiotic conversion camps work because I think they're absolute garbage mind you. So the prologue is going to be from a diary point of view. Dont worry! I have a good chunk of the second chapter done ~ and also enjoy. Leave kudos or comments <3 
> 
> Also excuse my poor Spanish. I've been using the same app to interact with Spanish rpers for a year now and it's a pretty solid translation? But it may not always make sense. I usually double check it before I write any phrase or sentence though.

_**June, 19th..2019.** _

**_"So, I'm bisexual."_ **

_"This is the sentence that changed my life forever. I'm still not one hundred percent sure in what way ~~fucking~~....freaking honestly. Because considering where I am now and what I've agreed to do, begs to differ the response from movie depicted, heart wrenchingly sweet acceptance. That's a joke apparently when it comes to family in my experience thus far. At least Hunk and Pidge, my friends since I was in middle school bless their souls, took the news well. I'm grateful to them every day for that because it made it easier to speak up to my parents. But anyways.."_

_"That's why I'm writing this. It's part of the program that I've been sent to in order to better myself. Apparently at the end of each week I'm supposed do document my thoughts and processing on this road to heterosexuality. That way when im..'fixed', and no longer 'lost'? I can take this with me on Graduation day. To you know, remind me that I'm not some 'going-through-a-phase' bisexual. So I can always remind myself of the progress I've made that's to this one hundred percent guaranteed to work conversion facility."_

...

...

_"If you ask me? It's a bunch of bologna. Being Bisexual isn't something I just randomly chose to be. It...it was something that took me years to recognize in myself and just as long to come to terms with. Because coming 'out of the closet' is fucking scary. It's the twenty first century and people still get the crap beat out of them for thinking differently then others. I'm aware of that fully. Obviously.. But that's the reason why I agreed to putself through despite disagreeing with everything this facility stands for. My Mama cried. She..cried when I told them over dinner that night. It, didn't feel very good and I held no accomplishment in finding courage to say it after that.. Infact my dad told me I should feel bad because she got so stressed out. She only wants what's best and the media covering the LGBT community scares her. It's the summer before I begin college courses for astrophysics and I guess, she wants me to be safe when I go."_

_"I fully understand where all of them are coming from..I think, sort of. My siblings didn't hold any positive or negative reaction the first night. Probably from the way dad and Mama acted. Which is fine! I didn't need validation at that point I just wanted to make her stop crying, and wipe that ugly frown off of dad's face. I sort of hoped that they would of left it alone, really. But then they brought my uncle into the mix to help try and convince me that I was wrong. You see, he's military. Uncle Tío taught me everything I know about fire arms which isn't really that much but I know how to shoot. I know how to take care of them and I'm a pretty damn good shot if I say so myself. He struggles sometimes..has PSTD that really hits him hard around certain holidays with all the noise? But he was my favorite Tío. Emphasis on was..though I'm still not sure about that either."_

_"Anyway's they called Tío and he showed up with these pamphlets for different camps and therapy's that could help me get better. Like I was sick or something with the flu or even a mental illness. Which let me tell you, I suffer plenty from my own demons already. I know the different between chemical in balance or whatever and something from the heart. It made him mad to here it though. I mean, do you know how hurtful it is to hear the guy whom you look up to call you a..a..I dont even what to write the word. So I'll leave a hint. It started with 'Q'. He looked at me like I wasn't me anymore...and I could see it in Dad and Mama's eyes the longer I screamed. What was I supposed to do? But agree in the end. It was an ugly afternoon..it still makes me feel sick for the way i acted so stupid and, angry. But this is who i am..i don't know how else to say that in a way that will make people understand."_

_"Is...this what every one goes through?"_

* * *

 

_**June, 26th..2019.** _

_"It's hot as hell in Nevada let me tell you. I feel like my skin is both incredibly dry, like a lizard, but slimy like a snake or something from how greasy I am all the damn time. I miss my facial products! Hell I miss stealing Veronica's girly cherry blossom shampoo because my brother's smells so musky. Who uses axe? Old Spice is where it's at duh.."_

_"You're probably wondering how this fiasco of a time is going right? That's what I'm supposed to be writing in this anyways, for future me."_

_"I'll start with this."_

_"It's going about as good as I thought it would and that wasn't fantastic to begin with. I knew it wasn't going to be a delicious cake walk? But these people are cooks. First week is about nothing but settling in. Day one and two were health evaluations, which I passed with a gold star thank you very much. I've always taken good care of my body. Can't be the hottest guy in class if I look like garbage. Can't long distance swim either if I'm out of shape so..that was a given. Day three was, a little rougher. It's a mental evaluation nonetheless. To make sure you're stable and all that good stuff."_

_"They diagnosed me with, depression and bouts of anxiety. Given I've known I've had trouble with these things since I was thirteen. Right alongside my ADHD..but I figured that at least this way? It's offical..and the medical staff here has me set to start anti-depressants and anxiety medications to help me center myself. Cool. I suppose I'm a little relieved about it. Emphasis on the little part. However what I'm not to fond about is the update they did to my AdDHD medication. I'm comfortable where I am with the dosage."_

_"I still have days where nothing makes sense..and everything kms overwhelming and I cant, focus on shit. I also have days where I hyper focus on a single task, or I forget to eat. That's normal for me. Hunk, my family and even Pidge has helped me in the past. But I guess they aren't here to do that now so we'll see how this goes."_

_"I miss them already. They doesn't allow phone calls back home here lest we become confused during our 'reprogramming'. They legit called it that. The sack of clods wtf. Reports are sent to my parents though. On my progress every week. Like a creepy report for how straight I'm becoming under the guidance of a team of therapists. Still feel bisexual though! To bad there aren't any real friendly people here..or hot ones. Like come on really? I can't thwart the system by finding future Mrs and or Mr. McClain here? Just reporting in, my luck says know. Boooooooo - "_

_"Right though back to business. The final day was a series of paper testings and group sessions. I'm one of the newest 'patients' here it turns out. The next after me is a pair of girls..girlfriends actually. They're really cute together but the only time they're allowed to see one another is during the group twice a week. Kind of sucks, but that's the point of this who damn circus isn't it? Stay strong lesbians. I have faith in ye!" "It was embarrassing. Talking about how I came to realize that I was Bisexual infront of a bunch of people my age and younger who think I'm a joke here. I know they do from the way they look at me or not at all. Ironic isn't it? I'm not gay enough for my fellow LGBT bros, but I'm just gay enough to be frowned upon and worried over by family and society. Whatever I guess..by the end of that to long fiasco, it turns out I'm the easiest to save from the group. I'll just how to show them how strong my resolve is. Thus I'm done here."_

* * *

 

_**July, 3rd..2019..** _

_"It's my birthday month. Spoiler alert I'll be stuck here. Can you hear my excitement? That was sarcasm.."_

_"I guess, all in all this week went the same as the last? More therapy sessions. Gym time is a thing here so I'm a little appreciative of that. Then lunch, another therapy session and the group. It's almost boring? They always ask the same questions every time but with a little bit of a remix when you least expect it. Usually revolving around things from how I'm feeling to if I've felt any changes in my mental physic yet. Jokes on them I'm still hella bi. That's not going to change."_

_"It's been six days since I've started my new medications though. I can already feel the changes in that but that isn't what their exactly looking to hear I guess. I told them that the doses are fucking with me but they claim that eventually I'll adjust. But it's hard..I can't focus on anything for to long..I'm having fits where no matter how many times someone explains something, I just can't..understand them? That one earned me a black eye because this guy from the group thought I was taunting him. Super nice boy. Really hot when he's pissed am I right? I also have the incredible urge to fidget constantly. I knew this would happen.. but. That aside, I can feel the downers kicking in too. The anti-depressants? I don't have much energy and while my anxiety is starting to tone down? I'm feel like shit about everything. Food doesn't have a taste, breathing feels like a trial and all of this thinking about answers to give to satisfy these people are exhausting. This is going to be a long summer."_

* * *

 

_**July, 17th..2019..** _

_"I'm not doing to hot, even if it is 90 plus degrees outside and seventy inside. I haven't eaten in since Monday. But I'm sick of no flavor and a bad texture constantly.. I'm sick of feeling so spacey headed, like my brain is full of cotton. It's making it difficult to keep a strong head through every therapy session I go to. I find myself feeling more confused about...about whether or not I'm answering correctly in testament to my beliefs? What I feel is real, right? What I am..I mean, isn't just fake? Because I know what I want and I know it's a feeling I can't shake. I think.."_

* * *

 

_**July, 21st...2019..** _

_"If I pretend, can I make it home in time for my birthday?"_

* * *

 

_**July, 24th...2019..** _

_"I just want to go home."_

* * *

 

_**July, 31st...2019..** _

" _I feel sick. Not a physical kind of sick that I can heal with medicines but something deep and unreachable. I, don't know what I'm doing anymore..or if what I'm pretending to say is even that..a pretend statement. I thought I could lie to them and make them send me back home? But I'm starting to loose sight of what's a lie and what's truth. It bothers the others like crazy I can feel it..but no one really talks anymore. Not a sound." "The power couple disappeared by the way. Haven't seen them for three days and I think they ran away from this place. If I tried? Would I be strong enough to survive out there? Would my Mama cry if she never heard another word, from me again?"_  

* * *

 

**_August, 8th...2019.._ **

_"Maybe, I was never who I've claimed to be my entire life..."_

* * *

 

_**August, 15th...2019..** _

_"I can't take this anymore. I don't want to hear any of it. I won't change. I won't change. I won't change. I won't change."_

_"I am Lance Alejah Serrano McClain. I am nineteen years old..I was born in Cuba, and moved America when I was six. I have a cat named Blue..I want to be successful in astrophysics. I want to fly to the stars. I have a scar on my chin from little league. I have old piercing holes in my ears from middle school. My lower back has scars from firework shots..and I love garlic knots made by my Mama. I miss my family alot, and I'm sorry I ever thought it was okay to be different.."_

_"If I'm not different can I come home? Please..?"_

* * *

 

_**August, 21st...2019...** _

_"I'm okay. I'm okay...only six weeks left, I'm okay.."_

* * *

 

_**September, 31st...2019..** _

_"I don't know what's wrong anymore because everything just feels so. Bad.. I've never felt like this before in my life and it terrifies me every time an awful thought pops into my head. I'm not sure I can make it to graduation..I'm not sure I came here and succeeded Mama...I'm so sorry..but I don't..I dont think I'm okay............"_

His shaking hand stopped scribbling across the page when he could no longer see what it was he was write. Vision blurring until fat salty tears dropped from his cheeks and to the paper lining his composition book. Smearing ink from the pen held in an impossibly tight grip between his fingers. Knuckles gone white.

It was going on midnight and the facility was quiet, hours into curfew call. Thus the only light he was using to write with was the rays of the full moon bleeding through the lone window in his room. Highlighting the desk and all of the damages his ticks had left behind. Scores of scratches worked into its wooden surface from tracing the pen into it over and over and over again for hours one morning until one of the staff members broke him from his trance. Disrupting the calming sound of plastic itching at wood. The legs of it had been rubbed raw on the insides from the side of his house shoes running against it from how often he would sit here and just, disassociate for long periods of time to escape the reality he was caught in. His bobbing motions eventually smoothing the color right off of it. In its entirety? This was all just a mistake. 

A mistake..

A bad, ugly huge..

_Mistake._

Lance gasped around a breath he forgot to take as he squeezed his eyes shut. Tossing the pen across the single desk so he could push his hands through his hair. It was closing in on him. This pressure that felt like it was coming from the walls far more rapidly then the slow crawl it had used before. His head was pounding in what he knew was another oncoming panic attack.

" _Oh díos.._ " he wheezed, knee all but banging the underside of the desk for how his leg jackhammered. No amount of counting to ten was helping to slow down his breath or thoughts..and he didn't have anyone to, to follow either. Lance felt like he was beginning to suffocate and if he didn't get out he was going to fucking loose his ever loving mind. Or what was left of it because whatever this place had done to him had turned his brain into poorly scrambled eggs. Yolk still glistening with a sheen of anxiety here and there amongst the solid chunks, the unshakable thoughts that plagued him hot and unrelenting.

He had to get out..he needed space, he desperately wanted to just..

Baby blue hues flies open and jumped to the window. Wide from panic but locking onto the full moon that he could blessedly see this night. Would he make if from the second floor? Every window had a ledge to it, small..maybe a foot out at most. But if he was careful..?

A door slammed shut close enough to his room that he jolted hard. Flinging his chair out as his feet scrambled him into a standing position. Lance stared hard at the door as a handful or more of jarringly loud seconds ticked by. Nothing he gulped, mind made up already before a fist pounded on the door. Lance choked, whirling around on his heels to crawl up onto the desk. Nearly loosing one of his cheeky slippers in the process as he tugged at the window pane in jerks.

_The lock you dumb fuck, the lock -_   he scolded himself, flipping both latches and throwing the window open. A rush of cool air hit him in the face and he felt his lungs expand for what seemed like the first time in days. Sweat ran down his temple as he panted. Taking mouth fulls of fresh oxygen now. Nothing like the stuffy staleness of his room. Dabizaal Converted didn't care for high security policies. It was impossible to walk out the front nor back or any service doors. The staff would stop you then, and having visitors was strictly prohibited lest outside sources send the patient spiraling into relapse. However the windows were never barred shut and as far as Lance knew there wasn't any trips to set off alarms in order to alert the staff either. However there were cameras in the corners of every bedroom. For safety reasons the counselors had explained.

That way if anyone.....if anyone tried to, hurt themselves then they could be stopped. So if anyone was watching right now then they would probably be on their way up to grab him quickly enough. Lance couldn't be caught..he couldn't afford to spend another minute in this hellscape anymore. Dragging his sleeve across his eyes to wipe away any prespiration that was gathering along his brow, Lance heaved a solid breath?

..and turned around carefully. Sticking his leg out and wiggling it back and forth to feel for the next window seal as he lowered himself out. He had to curl his toes to try and hold his house shoe on but it inevitably slipped free anyways. He could grab it later once he was on the ground and not hovering a good fourteen feet in the air. Luckily, his bare toe brushed against a solid surface and he almost wanted to cry. This was the tricky part though and no matter how much his instincts were screaming at him to hurry? The boy forced himself to move with caution. Inching his hands down the side of the brick wall, knees bending ever so slowly. The thundering of his heart almost blocked out the gust of wind that plucked and pulled at his clothes. Desperation over rode fear though when he felt himself wobble.

" _Por favor, déjenme llegar a la tierra.._ " he rasped, and the Universe responded. The door to his room was shoved open with a thick thud and Lance almost yelled. The beam of a few flash lights passed overhead and his eyes truly did water back up again. The boy had to blink them away as he gripped at the window seal he was perched on with a tight hold.

"The window. He left through it on the feed - !" One of the staff members called and Lance sobbed. Cussing at his locked up legs to please just _**fucking move**_! He was haloed with light and every logical thought in his skull evaporated. Lance jumped.

Someone shouted, one of the counselors who went by Kari he recalled, and the boy hit the ground hard. His hands stung as he fell into his side. Knocking the breath clean out of him.

_Levántate....¡Levántate!_  

Long, nimble legs kicked to get beneath his body. Fingers curling into the gravel to push himself up as he coughed. Choking around his attempted inhales, but he was up. He was moving. Stumbling through the dark across the facilities property. One hand clutching at the front of his shirt while the other helped to propel him forwards. Forcing a quicker recovery then normal under the adrenaline that was beginning to run through his veins like liquid heat. The ache in his leg and the burn along his arm and palms drifted off. Allowing him to break into a run. If anyone was giving chase then they weren't making a big show of it. Which only spurred him to pump his legs quicker out of fear of being over taken by surprise.

" _Oh díos.._ " he panted, feeling a wash of relief flood through him. The street was within reach. Meters away thank God he cried. Breaking into a full sprint and loosing the second slipper to the dust. _It's okay! It's okay..you're right there. You're out._  

With the guidance of the moon and the shivering light of the street lamps dotting the sidewalk, Lance ran.

 

 


	2. Day 0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that as of right now Keith and Lance really seem OOC? But they have no reason to hate one another or start that classic fiery rivalry just yet. It'll come in small places ~

They say that seconds before calamity happens, that your supposed to feel it. That when it hits? It feels like entire eternities fly by when in reality you have mere seconds to react properly. He's only had a few instances where this kind of phenomenon has happened and all of them have bitter memories of pain attatched to the letterhead. They're never something he wishes to remember and yet he has to face some of them every day.

Like the scar across his cheek and the one running along his shoulder from a car accident. It's unavoidable. Especially when every time he looks at Shiro he sees the jagged scar cut across his nose and the fact that he's now handicapped and learning how to function normally some days when the phantom pain from loosing his arm is to much. That's what a mixture of drunk driving in mid day, and poor road planning got you though. The sharpness of the turn had blocked them from the crash sight laying in wait on the other side and before they could comprehend what the man waving his arms in the street was saying? They hit. Flipped three times before another car slammed into theirs and sent them spinning all over again. Keith can recall looking directly at Shiro as the bulk of another car filled up the broken driver side window with no shape or form of stopping. He remembered the fear in his eyes because Shiro knew already. Knew that chaos was about to hit in the form of a souped up truck swerving around but all either of them worried about was what a second impact would do to their brother and then it was all over. They woke up in pieces  but alive..

The one before that was the fire. When he had been six years old and scared shitless. His own father leapt over the flames while on duty to save him from the roaring blaze that had burst into effect due to a bad mix of sparks and spilt lab chemical at his school. He can remember how long the seconds seemed to drag when he had been hiding under his desk to protect himself from the roof. How it creaked and groaned as the damage spread, ready to topple at any minute. Then the door to his class room had been kicked down. Knocking a desk caught in the flames aside and scattering paints and craft works into the hungry fire. Everything was slow then. When his Pop's lips formed his name and those sturdy legs took him over burning debris to get to his son. Even with the heavy fire guard gear that he had told the class about a mere month before during career day, Keith had known it was his dad.

Small grubby fingers reaching out on instinct when those thick gloves dove beneath the desk to jerk him out from beneath it seconds before the roof collapsed. His Pop dropped him into the line of paramedics with a single pat to his head, a silent promise before running back into the burning building. He never came back out.

It's Saturday night. Shiro's heads up on the fact that the house was active sat answered with a ETA on his arrival and a question on whether or not he should stop for anything. Luckily they had been kind enough to buy him his usual so he was free to head straight home.

 Fantastic.

However it's the weekend. Traffic is decently busy in front of the store he works for. A gadget, printing and music store all wrapped into one little bundle of chaos. It's where he rents and eventually buys the lenses he uses for his photography from. Considering the decent discount employees get in regards to anything in the store just for showing up and manning the counter. Keith is the manager though. Has been for a single short year and he's still learning how to man the ship so to speak without blowing up under the preassure. But the original manager and owner, a man who goes by Coran something something Smythe, retired.

By that he means retired in order to pursue other fancies. His little hole in the wall bar sits across town. It's nothing big or fancy nor is it really meant to house more then thirty people at a time considering the laid back and slow atmosphered place is down a flight of stairs and beneath street level. But the man knows how to make drinks so Keith visits every time he gets paid alongside Shiro, his partner and Matt. It's the perfect place to relax when he wants to drink out of the house but isn't in the mood to deal with sweaty bodies on the dance floor. Keith lives on the fast road but he can appreciate a good quiet moment damnit.

Original point. The store, Fresh Muse because that's a clever name, is closed. The commute home is something he can finally begin with no need to make any pit stops along the way. If people are at the house having the time of their lives then there's food too. However, traffic is decently steady for a Saturday. Cars whizzing back and forth as people chattering within about plans for the night. Oblivious to the clusters of people walking to and fro on the sidewalks, lost in their own bubbles on an evening where it finally feels good instead of fucking hot as hades ass. It should of been like every other long day after working at the shop. Prepping himself for a near hour drive from going between city streets to the empty open highway between himself and phone. It should of been alot of things besides the chaos that was beginning to unfold before he even recognized.

But what it wasn't was routine.

The Universe was never a mistress to stay still for long. It was an untamable, restless force that had all the time in existence to throw a wrench into your plans when you least expected it. When you had no way of preparing for it.

The wrench that is tossed his way comes in the form of a boy. A frazzled mess of a guy who was running in a lackluster line along the street. Keith hears him before he sees him there for the first time. His panting like a ragged dog and loud enough between what sounds like cries. Ugly sobs that make his senses feel heightened with that natural instinct to feed his curiosity. It's enough to pull his attention from the illuminated screen of his phone resting on his gloved palm. Ignoring the oncoming text from the group chat he's a part of with his roommates as the boy runs along the opposite sidewalk.

Even at first glance Keith can tell how distressed he is. Looking pale as a ghost and covered in enough sweat that it stains the collar of his shirt. An ugly baby blue color that looks off from the shade it probably should of been. He quirks a single brow as he drops his head from the scene. It's obviously caught other people's attention as they move to get out of the boy's way. It should of been a normal kind of evening. But no.

_No_.

A gasp brought his attention away from the couple of new messeges popping up on his phone and his widen. Was he really that stupid?! This warm toned, frantic looking boy whose bare feet slap far to loudly along the ground has taken him straight onto the black top. _He can run fast_ is his first thought. Watching how he damn near sprints along the four laned road plus a bike lane to run away from whatever demons that's spurring him on like wild fire. His second thought comes a mere breath later when he reruns his observation. Mind stuttering to jump a couple of feet ahead so he can comprehend what the fuck just ran over his damn mind.

_Black top?_  

**Black top!**

"Fuck!" Keith hisses, shoving his phone in his pocket and pushing himself up a little straighter on the seat of his bike. The man jerked his head to look at the lights hanging along the opposite of the intersection. Hovering over the vibrating line of cars. Its red. Meaning...the lights in front of them are switching to green next. He looks back to the kid whose only halfway across the first couple of lanes. At this rate he isn't going to make it fully across the road. Motor engines roar to life as the intersection light changes as expected, from blaring red to bright green and Keith's heart leaps into his throat.

He's in the middle of the street! No way near close enough to one side walk or the other and he looks entirely unaware of it. Eyes wide and glossed over with something wild and fevered. People stop just to his left with a plaphora of words that burst into full blown shouts in alarm as the scene sets itself and the alarming conclusion arrives for the witnesses. This kid is going to get plastered on the pavement. Hit at a speed that would be enough to cause intense harm to a scrawny body like that. But no one was doing shit! Not a single on one them were moving to stop this boy or even shout directly at him.

Thus... Back to the point at hand. Yeah, time has a funny way of manipulating itself when it really counts. It didn't work for anyone but itself and in this very second? It was finally in his favor he felt. The arrow on his dial pointing to his corner with the damanding glare of purpose. It was now or never.

"Hey!" Keith shouted at the boy, waiting barely a second to see if the idiot responded or even noticed. He didn't.

The raven haired male threw his helmet down towards the sidewalk. Rousing startled gasps from the hovering onlookers as he brought his leg over the bike. His boot almost got hooked on the handle in his rush but he didn't stop to check the vehicle over when he kicked it away from him. The boy was running diagonally. The worst way to cross a street if you were going to be a reckless pedestrian or a plain old douchebag and hop it. But something in his aura told Keith the other wasn't exactly thinking about that right now. So he moved.

It happened in a flash despite how slow it felt like time was ticking. Keith broke into a full blown sprint across the asphalt. Feet thundering in time with the flying pulse of his heart as he zeroed in on this guy like a lion zoning in on a gazelle that had broken apart from the heard. Without a second thought he leapt across the last foot of space between them. Wild eyes widened into saucers when they finally...finally acknowledged his presence. Looking startled out of whatever trance he had been in with a choke of unadulterated surprise. His bare feet stumble to a scraping hault, but Keith hits him head on with a bodily crash. They fly across the distance and hit the ground rolling. Keith wrapping his arm around the boy's head to guard it from the impact as they crash into the curb just as the line of cars zipped past with a deafening snarl of motor's. Over lapping his heart while it rushed in his ears.

The whiplash tugs at his clothes as the vehicles pulled the air with them. Keith didn't drop the arm he had shielded them with until the first wave had passed. Thinning out into spotty clusters of motorists as they continued on their route to unknown destinations. Ever dense beyond the first cars that had been an immediat threat to them both. They were safe. Thank hayley kiyoko for bike lanes he thought absently. A drifting thought that didn't last.

His chest heaved in rapid pants from the adrenaline spiking through his system because fuck that was to close for comfort. They could of been hit regardless of his attempt..but pure luck took his side tonight. He sent his gratitude to whatever great deity listened before jerking his head down to glare at the dumbfuck.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" He snapped, seemingly jarring the boy out of his shocked stupor with how shrill his harsh tone sounded. No-Name-in-scrubs(?), scrambled out from under him with a flurry of kicking legs and flailing arms. Clawing his way onto the curb in a mess of shaking maneuvers that only proved to add to Keith's general unsettled state over the entire situation. There was something off about him..and it wasn't the fact that he had no shoes either. What the hell..

"I-I...I'm sorry, holy shit - " the boy wheezed, threading his fingers through his deep chocolate brown locks with a wheeze of breath. Drawing his knees up until his bare heels hit the curb, knocking together unconsciously. His pupils were mere pinpricks.

"Sorry wouldn't of protected us from being road kill!" Keith snapped, positioning himself to sit beside the other with a begrudging huff. People were hovering still he noted, pushing his bangs back only for them to fall back in place as soon as he dropped his hand. It's shaking he notes minimally. Glancing around as whispers arose and flashes were snapped.

_Shallow_..no doubt what just happened here would be all over snapchats, Facebook, and Twitter's come tomorrow morning. Fantastic he wants to huff but refrains once he drops his nose to ignore their surroundings for a moment. No name hasn't seemed to notice how they've become a object of interest. How could he with his eyes screwed shut so tightly that his face could of folded in on itself any second.

"Is he okay?" A woman asked, mirroring his thoughts exactly as Keith to take a second to actually look at the boy. He was young. Probably a couple of years under him if he had to guess so no older then eighteen or nineteen and definitely no younger then seventeen and that was pushing it. There's an impressive set of dark shadows beneath his eyes and the hollowness that sat in his cheeks wouldn't of fooled anyone after a second glance. He was thin then, to thin and looking about two shades paler then he probably should of been. However it was his hands that made him seize anxiously. They were shaking like a leaf and when he followed them to the wrist, up along his arms and finally to those hunched shoulders Keith realized. His type of body language screamed how close he was to simply bursting open at the seams. A panic attack. Instantly Keith was on edge.

"I dont know.." he answered back, and the woman thankfully gave them a hair length of space to stand beside her boyfriend..husband, whoever. Steadying himself with a slow exhale Keith reached out carefully towards the boy. Hoping to keep from spooking him but he jerked regardless when a gloved hand lay on the center of his back, firm and steady. He was full bodily trembling, which only deepened Keith's frown.

"Hey..are you okay?" He asked lowly, leaning forwards so he could be heard over all the noise. It took a second before he responded. Taking a raspy breath that was cut short by q choked out word.

"No..no?" The brown haired boy laughed, but it didn't sound amused at all. It sounded desperate..like he was laughing at how ugly the universe was for putting him in this position.

"Are you hurt?" Keith pressed, doing his bet to ignore the growing crowd of hovering idiots. He got a head shake his troubles and the ravenette felt a brief rush of relief. That was one positive at least. Nothing broken or sprained from the fall then.

"Do you need to see a doctor?" Keith asked, and the boy stiffened before shaking his head again. He didn't miss how the other's breath picked up in pace and grew thinner. Fuck, that was the wrong thing to ask. Ironic though considering he was dressed the way he was.

"Do you, have any where to go?" He tested, and the reaction was instant. The sun kissed boy jolted, covering his eyes with the heels of his hands with a gasp as his shoulders began to jump from quick breaths. Well fuck.

"No - no I'm..I don't want to go back.." he choked, slipping into the danger zone. Keith quick to open his mouth in order to try and soothe him but someone beat him to the punch.

"Is he okay, or what?" He yelled snappily, someone hissed at the man's inpatient tone as Keith turned to flip him off.

"Fuck off! Go around us asshole." He berated, glaring firmly until the man tsked under his breath and made a show of stepping wildly around them. Shoulder checking Keith with his leg as he went along. God he hated people. Letting the incident drop, he turned back to the boy with a frown once more.

"Hey, hey just breath..you don't have to go anywhere you don't want to alright?" He soothed, gliding his hand up to squeeze at the nape of his neck. An action that his Pop use to do when Keith would get upset as a child. His old man had always been better at talking then him..he almost wished he was here to help this boy. But he unfortunately wasn't. This guy was stuck with Keith. The most socially inept person in town it felt like sometimes.

"Relax." He said, keeping his hand where he laid it considering the other hadn't pulled away. The boy nodded, sucking in a couple of breaths at an uneven tempo and Keith? Resigned himself to wait. He didn't know how long they sat there while the boy worked himself into a general state of calm. It was certainly long enough for foot traffic to go back to normal. Like nothing had ever happened here in this intersection at all. Which was for the better in his opinion. He wanted to this chapter of the night to close, and it finally did. The other gave one more sigh, before lifting his head to wipe at his red splotched cheeks with his shirt. The poor sucker looked even worse now them before but Keith didn't date say a thing about it. Only drop his hand away to stuff it into the pocket of his jacket alongside the other.

"Lance..my name is Lance." The boy said, nibbling at the corner of his mouth. He couldn't seem to sit still now and with reason. That had been a terrifying minute full of pure adrenaline.

"Well, my name's Keith. Are you.. feeling better?" He questioned, none to surprised when Lance shrugged his shoulders unhelpfully. Scrubbing at his hair in a fidget those surprisingly deft piano fingers smoothed it back down to the best of their ability.

"No..not, really." Lance admitted, putting his hands at either side of himself to rise back onto his shaky legs. Keith followed suit and they ended up corralling themselves against the wall of a bagel shop to get out of the middle of the sidewalk.

"I was uh...I was at Dabizaal Recovery, before this. But I couldn't..." Lance explained, drifting off absently as his mind drifted. Whether he saw Keith stiffen or not was a mystery to discover for a different time. Keith laughed, curt and infuriated. This kid had been at a therapy facility specifically for 'healing' the gay out of you. What a pot of luck..

"You were running from the brainwash then?" He asked after a minute, trying but failing to keep that pinched tone he always got when he was ticked off. Keith hated that place. Any person who was actively out and probably still in the closet so to speak in this area knew of Dabizaal in the It was a facility of therapy and healing. A way to escape your terrible homosexual troubles and all that nonsense. Kids went there and came back as something muted. There was no color left to them when they returned to a normal routine out in the world. Just a numb hollowness that leached the light out of everyone around them until no one was left to be there for them. Keith had never personally experienced firsthand what it was like to deal with the aftermath in a friend before. But he had seen it online under the hits searching the place gave you. Parents didn't always find relief in the product of their money spent when it came to sending their children to that damn place. At least they were 'straight' while they were miserable huh? So it was no wonder why Lance looked so bat shit crazy. He probably ran from the place on a unplanned whim. Pressured from the stress or otherwise.

"Yeah..I guess I was." Lance replied absently, biting into his cheek as he idly picked at the plainness of his grass stained pants. A simple set of scrubs that were a soft baby blue in shade. Guess that explained the get up then..it was probably basic issued clothes for every unfortunate soul there.

"Did your parents force you to go there?" Keith asked lowly, just barely speaking above the generalized noise of the street. He was thrown off by the lack of malice in the boy's expression when it twisted into something pained. Those sad eyes hiding something shattered behind them when they side eyed him.

"No..they asked me to give it a shot and I agreed." Lance replied, shaking his head and looking off to the side. Specifically up as if to keep himself from shedding anymore tears.

"I thought they would be a bunch of half assed doctors and I'd come out the same but now I..dont know anymore." He almost whispered, left hand finding the front of his plain white shirt with an impossible grip. He looked as if he wanted to say more..though choosing not to.

"Uhm anyways, thanks..for saving my life." Stormy tanzanite orbs met now cleared deep ocean blues and Keith found himself stuttering to think of the proper response. Had they been that color minutes ago? Lance's eyes were like looking into the depths of the open sea. Waves crashing against the stoney shore line with an oncoming storm on the horizon. Deep and wild. He had to admit..that they were beautiful.

"Yeah...yeah, no problem." Keith breathed, wanting to slap himself as he turned a flustered glare towards the street. He could appreciate fine features like a normal person damnit.

"Listen..I barely know you and you dont know me. But if you don't have anywhere to stay? Then I think I know place." he offered, side eyeing Lance from his peripheral vision to see if he could judge what kind of response he got. At first the other's shoulders stiffened, tightening up with the question. A rejection on the tip of his tongue. But as the seconds ticked and he realized that Keith was serious then he eased up. By a single half level for all the looseness that hit his knitted frame.

"It's my brother's..I've been crashing there for a while, but it'd be safe. You wouldn't have to go back to that shit hole either." he encouraged, noting how Lance perked at the mere idea of not being forced into going back. Fuck that place. That didn't mean he budged however. The fidgeting twist and pull of the hem of his shirt between trembling fingers told of hesitation and anxiousness. Keith didn't know what it was about this boy. Whether it was sympathy for another member of the LGBT community, or for him as a guy who had literally nothing right now. He couldn't pin point what prompted him to push off the wall and stand before him. Holding out his fingerless gloved hand with a gleam in his eye.

"Do you trust me?"

Lance lifted those blue eyes to level with his face. Flicking across his featured to try and read whatever secrets may lie beneath his nuetral expression. When Lance didn't find anything of the sort he sighed.

"There's going to be alcohol." Keith teased, raising his hands to weigh the other male's unspoken options and it earned a laugh. The first one since he had met this boy. It was it a nice sound to hear for what it was worth. Even if it was a quiet and tired little chuckle.

"I think I'll take you up on that." He replied, sounding far more at ease then minutes before as he lay his hand in Keith's own. It was still trembling he noted.

"Cool..cool, uh alright this way." He drifted off, mentally cursing his awkwardness as he closed his fingers around Lance's and turned to lead them to the street corner. Hitting his fist against the old button to prompt the light system to stop traffic and open up the cross walk. A proper way to cross the street he almost wanted to joke. But Keith kept his lips sealed shut firmly. To fucking soon jesus.

Lance didn't offer any conversation starters either, standing slightly behind his shoulder but close enough that he could feel the heat from another body against his arm. The air was..a mixture of things between them but it lacked the same kind of chaos as before so the ravenette was thankful. Thankfully the lights changed and the signal for walk lit up from across the street. Keith stepped off the curb and Lance willingly followed behind him like a pup until they were safely on the other side of the street. He pulled his hand away from Keith's calloused one and the man didn't argue about it in favor of eye balling the state his poor child was in.

The child that had been so violently kicked earlier in an attempt to free himself from her. His bike lay on its side, half on the sidewalk and half out in the road. Quietly he walked over and set her back up on her wheels. Giving the one side a brief once over to find that she hadn't recieved a scratch in his rush, earning a sigh of relief from Keith. She was a beautiful vehicle. Sleek black with swirls of red running along her sides in thin waves. It was his pride and joy. The ultimate machine made to dodge and weave through heavy traffic just to smite the poor bastards stuck in it. It was also fast as hell, his Red. Retrieving his tossed helmet, the older turned and held it out to the tired boy with a crooked smirk.

"Take this." He encouraged, waiting patiently as Lance took it clumsily. Eyeing it vaguely.

"Figures you would have a bike..I'm sorry you had to dump it." Lance spoke, shifting on his feet with an uncomfortable tilt to his brows. Keith dropped his gaze down to his feet before looking back up at him with a soft tsk. His feet were probably raw.

"I'm not." He grunted, missing the flash of confusion on Lance's face while he climbed onto the bike smoothly.

"If I hadn't of kicked it off you'd be a flat cake." Keith explained further, holding his hand out for the helmet with a small smirk. "You up for a ride? He lives a ways out."

It was the last out he could offer to Lance. But the boy didn't look to keen on trying to find other ways to make it through the night. The only other place that logically made sense was to drive him to the police station. However that would likely put him right back at Dabizaal. Throwing caution to the wind Lance inched forwards and climbed onto the back of the bike. There hasn't been any turning back since he first climbed out of that window anyways. What did he literally have to loose? The raven haired man smiled and Lance's heart did a weird twist before it disappeared beneath the helmet.

Hands going to the handlebars in what he hoped was enough of a signal to grab on. Bare feet shuffled on the sides of the vehicle until he found a proper foothold. Trusting Keith to hold the bike steady with his leg as he finally felt situated. There was a moment where Lance fumbled on where to out his hands. Awkward and out of place. So Keith took a little bit of pity despite the hidden snicker he let loose by reaching back to take his wrist. Tugging his arm around his middle until it was pressed against the flat of his stomach.

"You're going to want to hold on there buddy." Keith called so he was heard from within his helmet. Oblivious to the heat that ran across Lance tear blotched face but very much aware of when the other's arm circled around to join the first. Still to loose for Keith's liking but he'd figure it out once they started moving. Thus he turned the key in the ignition and spurred the motorcycle to life with a roar. He may or may not have laughed pridefully when Lance yelped from behind him. Fingers instantly curling into his shirt front. The older took that as his cue. Kicking the stand up and pulling away from the curb when the coast was clear. They had to begrudgingly wait at the intersection for a solid minute. Rumbling in the middle of the lane until the light turned green and he could finally leave that blasted strip of street behind for Lance.

It was a bit of a drive to get out of the small city. But once they got to the open two lane highway? Keith felt everything fall from his shoulders. Left behind in the gravel and dust that his tires kicked up. Their way lit only by his headlight and the large moon hanging in the sky above them. He always loved this part when it came time to go home. The drive was just long enough that he could run through his thoughts and drop the weight of the day away before getting home. It was particularly nice during the night though. Out here the light pollution was low. So the stars were allowed to shine with everything the had. Bunched together and scattered around like glitter over the back drop.

Shiro complained about the distance when it came to getting any kind of take out? But he knew that the man secretly liked rolling down the rode in his pick up truck with the windows rolled down and shades resting on the bridge of his nose. When Keith had first moved out here after trying and failing to make it through college his brother had taken him on a drive. Walking into his room to shake him off the bed at ass o'clock late just like this. It's when the moon was almost at its highest peak and the roads were empty. So they could cruise at their own pace. Keith had fallen a little bit in love with the landscape that night and found a drop of peace.

He broke from his drawling thoughts when the weight of Lance's head pressed into his shoulder. Arms tightening that much more around his middle until the boy's chest was pressed against his back. The smile that dared to grace his lips fell a mile later when those same shoulders began to hiccup and jerk around fresh tears. He didn't say a word about it. Only tighten his gloved hands around the grip bars with a flicker of anger and a wallop of empathy.

Keith understood what it was like to be different from everyone else. On more levels then simply being gay in a world that still couldn't wrap it's head around it. He grew up differently. He acted differently, dressed differently, talked differently. Looked different and loved different. Fitting in had become an intangible concept at the early age of six. After his father had been taken on the job in that school fire and his world grew smaller and grey. Flat even. Kids taunted him for only having one parent who struggled to mourn and raise a child on her own. That was the first time he ever hit someone before in his young life. The empowerment from knocking the other boy onto his ass and having him look up at him with that shocked expression? Well..let's say it fueled a fire he hadn't had before and from that day forth, solving his problems with his fists became easier then running. But when that didn't work?

He fled.

Pushed people away until he was isolated, safe. Maybe it was himself who had made it easy for everyone around him to assume he was so different and after years of living like that? It became a safety net. Until he met Shiro.

This A plus student whom everyone knew and looked up to. A natural born leader that had wings that stretched far for those who needed the shelter. For whatever reason..Shiro latched onto him. Stood by his side no matter how many times Keith tried to scare him off. Acting as his form of guidance, a sheild, a friend. He never gave up on him despite his reputation or hideous social tendencies. Instead? He gave him challenges to surpass. Pushed him constantly to be better and get stronger until he looked in the mirror on graduation day and laughed. Astonished at how much he had...managed to change over the years without even realizing it was happening. He owed Shiro more then he would ever be able to repay him for. So he knew without a doubt, that this man would take one look at Lance and open those grand wings again. Casting the light this boy so badly needed on his path until he found the right one. 

* * *

 

It was almost midnight when he pulled off the main road and took a lengthy street down an unmarked two way road. Going about a mile and a half and taking a left to turn them into the midst of a suburban area. The Oasis. A cheekily named cluster of homes and duplexes considering the forty five minute drive it took from him to get here starting from city limit to destination. Home he sighed, rousing Lance from whatever stupor he had slipped into when the bike rolled to a stop. Jostled as Keith put the kick stand out. Sluggishly the boy pushed himself away and he almost mourned the comfortable aura of having him rest against his back. Almost.

"This is it." Keith said, pulling his helmet off and shaking his head to chase away that annoying helmet hair. You could almost hear Lance audibly gulp when he turned in his spot. Both pairs of eyes falling onto the house sitting nestled between two others. As warned, the party was in full swing. The muffled thumping of the base and distant peels of laughter echoed out at them. Rays of light passed the front windows in a mixture of colors. Clearly broadcasting to the world what kind of atmosphere lay behind those doors. Not that it mattered. The entire neighborhood was made up of both their friends, and equally friendly neighbors who usually became a part of the party crowd at some point in the night.

"I didn't know it was going to be so, loud." Lance spoke up, clearing his throat as Keith walked around the bike to join him by the lawn. He probably should have warned him a little, but would the boy have agreed to come if he knew? It would of likely overwhelmed him on the spot after his eventual game of chicken with traffic. Keith admittedly..just wanted him to relax. That's all. The poor kid literally escaped from what he can imagine is fucking hell run by satan turning peoples minds into smoothies. This should be a far cry from that.

"Hey, It'll be alright. Just stick by me and we'll get you cleaned up." Keith replied smoothly, somewhat satisfied with how soft he had managed to get his voice. He had..never really been good at the comforting thing. But the look Lance angled at him, almost unreadable outside of his subtly widened gaze, was enough. If he was reading it right and that wasn't how Lance looked before he started spiraling again.

"Alright.." he said after a long moment, shoulders rising with the deep breath he sucked in before exhaling. Setting his resolve and stepping onto the lawn first. Keith followed easily after him. Taking the lead when they got closer to the porch so he could walk through the door first and deflect any major questions. His friends may be obnoxious and loud but they weren't total assholes. Besides he was positive that Lance would fit right in. It'd be a nice break in his tempo before they would inevitably have to talk about what to do. There was no damn way he was going to make Lance go back to that place. Ever. It was obvious to him that right now at least, the staff wasn't looking for him. So there was that. Untangling his house key from the rest of them hanging off of his ring, he unlocked the front door and turned to see if Lance was still on for it. He found that the other was looking at the flag hanging across the far right front window. Bold and proud in its rainbow mix of colors. He looked, troubled and yet no more tense then previously.

"A good portion of the people in this house right now are ridiculously friendly." Keith explained, making Lance jump.

"So you'll be okay." He pressed, unable to quite put an emotion to the one on the kid's face. He looked, troubled...perplexed even. Keith wasn't sure how to decipher that type of response, but all things considered? It was probably the general output he now had thanks to those crazy clods. So he didn't bring it up. It was damage that Lance was going to have to undo if he was..ever able to was his own.

The other crowded in by Keith as he popped the door open. Hovering close as they stepped in unnoticed by the occupants inside. The lights were dimmed in the living room off to the right down a short hall. Branching off from the entry room that broke immediately into the kitchen and dining area to the left. Straight ahead were the bathrooms and then bedrooms. His personally lay around the corner of the hall and at the very end by the second bathroom. No one ever breached party law and went in there if they knew what was good for them so it'd be quiet in there. Thankfully. As he unlaced his boots and set them off to the side, Keith felt the familiar pull for attention of Shiro's presence. The little pinch of fingers at the hem of his leather jack only confirmed it.

"Hey Keith! Hey...uh?" Shiro paused, slipping into a confused tone laced with a subtle slur to his words. So he was tipsy then..but not drunk Keith noted. Straightening his posture so Lance was hidden behind him mostly. Their eyes met as he glanced back over his shoulder and Keith gave him reassuring look. The boy didn't look a bit comforted in the face of Shiro's attention. At first glance his brother was intimidating as hell. He was easily 6'2 in height. All broad shoulders, narrow waist and packed with bulk. People easily missed the fact that he was actually handicapped half the time when he approached with the aim to stand off. Which was rare in itself. His patience was an actual virtue but there was a handful of topics that would set him off in an instant. Lance's case was one of those.. But those chestnut brown eyes were weighted with worry, curiosity and the demand for some kind of answer no matter how small. So Keith gave it to him.

"This is Lance. He doesn't have a place to stay so he's bunking here tonight." He explained vaguely, though his gaze promised a better one later on. They needed to get Lance cleaned up and looked over first. Make sure he wasn't actually injured or even concussed despite the fact that Lance claimed otherwise.

"The more the merrier. My name's Shiro." The man greeted, keeping his hands to himself for the time being.

"You can use the shower if you want. I'm sure Keith has spare clothes for you to get into..you look about the same size. Are you okay?" Shiro asked Lance directly, sobering up rather quickly for the flush of pink that bridged his nose. Making the scar there a more soft white then usual. Lance must of not been expecting to be spoken to because he flinched. Jerking his attention back to the two of them and away from the floor that he had been boring holes into in his attempt to stay out of it. Everything about him screamed awkward, but Shiro was patient. Softening his expression by a degree.

"I'm..not sure.." the shaken boy murmured, clenching his jaw impossibly tight as those ocean blues grew red with the threat of tears. He looked frustrated at himself more then anything. Keith's lips thinned as no other response was really forth coming. Quietly he reached back and gripped lightly at his wrist for silent support before he could second guess himself. Lance didn't pull away at least.

"Hey..it's alright." Shiro spoke up gently, "I'll talk to my partner and we'll figure things out. Go get cleaned up and we'll get you something to eat or drink." he said with a sense of finalization. He shared a look with Keith, prompting him to make sure the guy had everything he needed before giving Lance a small smile and turning towards the kitchen. Where Adam had been watching the entire time with interest. Though his brows were curved up and his fingers tapping at his lips in a nervous gesture. Keith shook his head at him and he could physically see the breath heave from the man in the way his shoulders sunk.

"This way man." Keith said, tugging Lance forwards so they could slip past the living room. Not a head turned minus Matt's. Whom of which perked at the troubled aura Keith was carrying with them as he hurried by without a glance to spare. The ravenette didn't see him get up to peek around the corner nor to crowd into the kitchen to see what was up. Luckily they didn't pass anyone in the hallway on their way to the bathroom. Which was thankfully empty. Keith opened the door and flicked on the light, letting go of Lance's arm so he could jerk the shower curtain back just encase. The coast was clear. So he reached around Lance, who leaned to the side to give him space, and shut the door.

"You're fine.." he told the other, taking a fresh towel from the rack hanging on the wall to give to Lance. He gratefully took it, burying his face in the red material with a shuddering breath.

"I'm sorry..I'm causing trouble and I..I should just go." Lance muffled out, shaking his head back and forth. A flush of familiar anger curled in his stomach.

"Lance you're not causing any one any inconvenience. You don't even have any shoes!" He pointed out, gesturing to his feet with a wince. 

"Besides I have a say because I pay rent and I offered you a place here." Keith further reassured, letting the bite in his voice fall away as he tilted his head to try and peek at him. It was hesitant..but Lance slowly peered at him in embarrassment from the towel he had bunched against his face. His eyes were glossy again and the darkness that raged behind the surface had not lessened any further. It made his heart ache..

"Okay..okay.." Lance whispered, finally letting his hands fall away with a tight lipped frown. Now that he was under some florescent lighting? Keith could get a better look at him than from before and to be frank? He looked exhausted and emotionally strung out. Why would he not be? It sounds like it's been an awful plane of existence recently. Keith didn't know how long he had been there at Dabizaal. But for what it counted, they had had enough time to fuck with him. However, with better lighting also meant that he could see the collateral damage as well.

Lance was admittedly a little more roughed up then he thought he had been. There was a couple of scrapes along his jaw that was already beginning to bruise up for how small they were. Like his face had hit gravel. His fingers were red as well he blinked. Reaching out carefully to weasel the towel out of his sturdy grip. Once Lance realized what he was trying to do he let go of it and relaxed his fingers. Allowing his hands to be turned over so the brunt of the fury red scrapes and meager discoloration there could be seen in full.

_He had landed on his hands? No..no he'd been holding onto me when we hit the ground so.._ it was from before that. In his escape. Where else was he hurt?

"Do you have injuries anywhere else? Your..your knees or something?" Keith asked, breaking his eyes from his battered palms to look directly at Lance. He nibbled at his lip before relenting with a sigh. Curling his fingers into a loose fist.

"I..landed pretty hard when I jumped before, we met. But I know nothing's broken I'm just sore." He explained, rushing the last part when Keith had made the move to lean back and look over him. Lance didn't want to know what he looked like under his clothes with the guy in the room with him. He was probably bruised and gritty for how gross he felt at the moment. Thankfully Keith didn't press.

"And your feet?" The ravenette asked about instead, letting go of Lance's hands with a flush of pink to gesture towards his legs. Remembering then that he'd still been holding onto them. The other boy didn't tease him so he didn't make a big deal of it. Lance bent carefully, fingers extended towards his pants leg with hard swallow before pinching at the material and easing his leg up. They both audibly hissed at the bottom of his foot and Keith felt a wave if guilt for not thinking sooner. They were dirty of course. Running on the ground like that would get them colored black. But beyond the grime there were blisters forming. Enraged bubbles of redness that looked raw and ready to erupt at the slightest poke. His other foot was no better if not worse. Some of the padding just below his toes looked torn.

"Fuck..alright. Easy fix. Go ahead and take a shower. You can use that towel and I'll grab you some fresh clothes. Uhm..I'll leave them on the counter so if the door opens it's just me. No one messes with my end of the hall." Keith explained, holding the towel in question back out to him for Lance to take.

"When your done there'll be a first aid kit under the sink. You can use whatever you need." Lance listened with a mild frown on his face, but didn't reject any of it. Instead he took the towel in his hands once more with a shaky grip.

"Thank you.." he whispered with earnest, lifting his eyes up to lock with Keith's. Even with shadows haloing his eyes like that, they were still such a shocking color.

"Of course. I'm going to go talk to Shiro. My room is next to the bathroom so you can go there if you want..but I'll be in the kitchen." He explained, recieving a tired nod from the boy. That was good enough he figured. Laying a hand on Lance's shoulder with a small awkward squeeze for reassurance, Keith slipped out of the bathroom and left him to it. Closing the door with a soft click before making his way across the hall and into his room. He shut the door before turning on any lights and made a bee line for his closet to look for something Lance could fit into. Shiro was right..they looked to be about the same general size if you didn't take into account the extra inch Lance had on him. So he pulled a pair of simple sweat paints from a hanger along with a long sleeve black shirt to go along with it. Laying each article of clothing across his arm as he moved onto the next. A pair of socks to protect his feet, and lastly boxers. He wasn't entirely sure that Lance would use them..considering it was probably a little fucking weird but it was the thought that counted right?

That being said he turned out the lights and carefully slipped back into the bathroom. Lance was already in the shower thankfully. The faucet running as he tested different temperatures. So Keith quietly sat the clothes on the counter top and then crouched onto his heels to dig out the first aid kit. Adam had been right on one thing. They did come in handy.

"It's just me, but everything is on the counter...so, take your time." Keith explained, popping the old to the kit open once he had set it atop the counter. Nothing was really missing minus a few bandaids so there was plenty for Lance to work with. Whether the other male answered or not? It was to soft spoken, so Keith let him be and slipped back out into the hall to make his way to the kitchen to rejoin Shiro. However this time Matt had found himself a place leaning against the island while Adam mimicked as much opposite of him. They were all waiting for answers.

"So..you want the story huh." He stated more then asked, opening the fridge to grab a bottle. He needed something to take the edge off and calm the buzz of wired anxieties in his veins.

"That would be nice, considering you brought a half starved boy into the house. You know, as a common courtesy." Matt pipped up, taking a swig from the red solo cup in his hand without missing a beat. Therefore it was likely water..this round at least.

"I agree..I'm willing to help if the kid really needs it. But I kind of want to understand why first." Shiro supplied in a far more calm tone. So Keith popped the cap from the Dos and turned to the trio. Ignoring one of their guests as they weaseled by to refill their glass. It wasn't any of their business and he doubted they had even seen them walk in.

"He left Dabizaal..that conversion therapy facility down there by city hall?" Keith started, mixtures of surprise and neutrality crossed their faces but no one said a word so he took that as his cue to continue. "He ran right into fucking traffic in a blind panic, so I uh..ran out there to get him.."

"Keith.." Adam hissed sternly, growing more pinched in the face but the ravenette held his hand up to shush him. Taking a hearty sip or two from his beer to wet his throat before continuing.

"No one was hurt and as I said before he doesn't have anywhere to go. His parents asked him to go there..so he says." He finished, crossing his arms in frustration as he tapped his index against the neck of his bottle. Matt was the first to respond with a long suffering sigh.

"Guess that explains why he looks like he came from a nut house." He mumbled, hiking his shoulders up sheepishly under Keith's sharp look.

"Look, I know we have no obligation to do anything. But I'm not letting him go back there and get fucking brainwashed any further." He growled, standing a little straighter with his resolve.

"We can't just decide that. It's a city ran program, they'll probably be looking for him come tomorrow." The red head answered back, setting his cup down to better face the younger man but paused when Shiro took a half step to put his hands between them.

"Calm down." the man started but Keith growled, waving his hand to cut him off in a way he would regret later.

"No. You didn't see what I saw on him when he fucking ran across that street. We can't just not do anything!" He defended firmly, crossing his arms with a frown. Keith could still see the fear behind those hollow eyes as clearly as if he were still locked in that moment. Lance ran from that place for a reason..and it just felt, wrong to let someone suffer there when he had the chance to change it. The entire situation was hitting to close to home, dragging up old memories he'd rather leave in the dusty box at the back of his mind. Life hadn't always been kind to Keith. But inevitably it had led him here. Amongst people he loved dearly whom of which cared for him just as much. It was just..frustrating that anyone would doubt the intensity of the problem with hesitation over what they should and shouldn't do. Logically it made sense. This could turn into a legal thing if they harbored someone who broke from a facility like that when it was a paid program. However would the staff really care as long as they had their money in the end?

"Well, definitly not. You know as well as I do what our opinion is on programs like that. But doesn't he have someone in his family he can contact? Someone trusted maybe?" Adam spoke up, tilting his head to catch Keith's full attention once more. Bring a sense of tension to him as he looked down and frowned. Lance didn't really mention any other family members before. Just his parents and this sick deal that they had struck. However the situation hadn't exactly called for leisurely conversation.

"No..he only said his parents made him go. Lance didn't really mention anyone else at the time." The ravenette repeated, shoulders steadily beginning to hike up in that familiar and hated feeling of dread..guilt. He needed to calm down. There was no reason to act like a complete shithead.

"Then that makes it a family matter that we really have no say in Keith." The older explained, holding a finger up when a sigh began to fall from between Keith's lips. Long and insuffeting.

"But! I wasn't finished you heathen. I think we can all agree on letting him say here for tonight. However I think tomorrow we should insist he call home and see if this can be resolved. Deal?" The man asked, looking to Shiro and then Matt. Contemplation hung around the circle and Keith found himself taking another swig to wet his suddenly dry throat. Surely they would agree wouldn't they? One night was okay for now..that's all Keith asked because he had promised Lance it would be perfectly fine.

"I still think this is a semi bad idea..but that's agreeable." Matt hummed, throwing his shoulder up in a 'what can you do manner' before turning to the island to mix another round. However he pulled a second red solo from the half empty sleeve of them laying across the counter. Setting it beside his own and grabbing the neck or a bottle of rum. The redhead poured out a pair of shots in each with a practiced motion. Spiking Keith's curiosity.

"Deal." Shiro replied after a moment, "For now all we can do is give him a safe place to sleep for the night. Until we know anything about his family situation tomorrow? It'll just have to be played by ear." The youngest let his tense form sag. He wasn't sure why he had been worried about Shiro's opinion the most when he had been apprehensive about his response the least just an hour before. This man was his adopted brother though. A mentor who had helped guide him through life to the best of his ability thus far. His opinion always meant alot to Keith.

"Thanks guys..I'm sorry I got snappy." Keith murmured, lifting his gaze from his more then half empty bottle of Dos when a warm hand came to rest on his shoulder. Shiro smiled at him. Open and warm.

"Hey..you did the right thing Keith. I'm proud of you." He murmured, leaning in to press his forhead to Keith's own briefly. It was a kind of reassuring gesture that they would share between one another sometimes. When they needed a moment to calm down and resettle themselves or simply when they wanted to show they cared. Shiro's old man use to do it to him when he was younger and well, he carried it with them and now it was their thing. It worked every fucking time.

"Now, be a good host and show your guest a good time." Matt chuckled, holding out the second solo cup with a jerk of his chin. Keith blinked and turned to look over his shoulder and there was Lance.


	3. Night 0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An agreement is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || this took me, FOREVER.

Lance was barely sixteen when he realized that he maybe sort of found boys to be just as alluring as girls.

It was all that transfer student's fault. A kid who moved to America after being given the chance to be a part of the program. He had come all the way from Cuba, home for Lance. The very chunk of this entire Earth that he had originated from and having someone who came in from his motherland had been a trip during his sophomore year. It'd been nice to have a person he could talk to about everything he missed in Cuba and have them understand _exactly_ what he was talking about.

Mateo had been his name.

A confident easy going kid who had a hell of a future in soccer if he stuck to it. He had been of nimble build, with strong legs and hazel eyes that made all the girls he walked past swoon. Especially when he sported tank tops during after school practice, running drills in the warm sun two hours three times a week. Coated in sweat from the intensity of running miles before being set free for the day. He was pretty Lance admitted to himself one day. Watching this guy laugh at something silly as he made his way to the table Lance had stationed himself at with Hunk and Pidge. All rich, curly dark chocolate hair and skin as fair as silk with a beauty mark just beneath his left eye. Accenting those damn baby soft cheek bones that clashed with his rather strong jaw. You get the picture right? He was a real catch Mateo was. But funny thing that.

Turns out he was straight as a board and Lance was left to puzzle over why he couldn't stop thinking of him. Google was a search engine that opened up a world of information though. That and Pidge and Hunk could only take so much of his spacey stares and mumbled complaints about his uninteresting 'boy' troubles. So in the dead of night, way past his bed time if he wanted any kind of beauty sleep, he googled it. Asked the infamous search site why he ' _couldn't get his dude friend out of his head no matter_ _how_ _hard he tried.'_ Crap of course, filtered in as the first couple of links. However the further down he looked the more intimate the suggestions from different yahoo asks and other question sites became. Going from crushes to blogs about sexualities to sites that explained all of them and what they detailed to. That's how he found himself reading page after page until one in the morning.

That's how the seed of doubt had been planted in the forefront for his mind where it would be watered for weeks, months, another year before he allowed his minds eye to see it fully for what it was. A ticket into the LGBT community through the sturdy roots of bisexuality. That however didn't mean Lance ever told Mateo of his budding realization that maybe, he had had a crush on him. Why would he when the boy lived hundred and thousands of miles away ontop of already having gathered a girlfriend before his flight that morning. Which was cool. Long distance relationships could be just as beautiful as ones that started with your next door neighbor. So, that beautiful boy flew back to Cuba unawares as the semester came to a close. They kept in touch here and there through social media's because at the end of the day the boy was still an interesting person to talk too. Summer vacation casually rolled in quicker then sonic on a long stretch of platform without any, major hitches. Now that he was older, Lance could see the ironic irony in how everything always seemed to revolve around summer vacation.

Just to keep you informed, he isn't laughing about it.

Infact quiet the opposite because you'd of thought he had learned to dread those three steaming months of freedom. But Lance was young and dumb, wearing his heart on his sleeve and carrying a rational amount of fear in his gut in the form of instincts. Poor instincts that didn't always prove to be correct but acted wildly and with soul in the instances that called upon them. They lived the way he wished he could. Free from worry, uncaring of what people thought and confident enough to not second guess oneself due to your own self esteem issues and personal demons. They wanted to be happy and for a brief time? He lived in nothing but excitement..

Jittery when he got his first kiss from a boy under the bleachers at a sports game. His family had already begun to shuffle out, leaving light jests in their wake when he told them he would catch up in favor of exchanging numbers with this boy who had been such a source of entertainment throughout the entire expierence. Starting cheers that carried every time a player on their team stepped up to the base with their bat leveled out expertly. He had been fun to sit next to for being forced into the last seat so his older sister wouldn't have to sit by a 'total stranger'. Her words not his. Lance had had fun and he wasn't ashamed to keep in contact with people like that. Besides, not a soul that passed by gave any second glances as to what two boys were doing huddled under the shadows of the bleachers together with their heads to close, to lost in the excitement that came from one of the best games they had seen in a while. Lance knew cause he could feel it too. They didn't exchange numbers that night. Only names that Lance god honestly couldn't remember now. But he had gotten to expierence what it felt like to have a boy's lips against his own. To have a sturdy chest pressed against his. He can barely remember the sound of his voice after a year and a half now..but he can still recall the way that kiss had tasted.

Like watermelon chapstick and mint gum.

Lance could remember how his hands felt on his bare forearms. Clammy from nerves and calloused like his father's workers hands, but gentle. So damn gentle. He can still picture how softly the boy smiled before wishing him a good night. Like he already knew what he had just proved for Lance right there in that secret little corner of the world. It's something he wishes he could still look back fondly on..but he knew that that night was a night of realizations for him. When he really looked at himself and asked, ' _can I love boys_ _as much as I love girls?'_ The world said yes. That it was okay to be a part of the LGBT community because there was nothing wrong with loving who you loved. However it also said it was disgusting and wrong. A sin whispered upon your very ear by demons themselves.

Lance did his research.

He knew what _could_  happen when you were open about it. But now that he had unlocked this peice of himself that was only newly discovered it just, felt right. Like stars had aligned and struck him with a bolt of true energy so that dull light bulb hovering over his head lit up brightly. Lance was Bisexual. He was bisexual and proud to of come to such a conclusion rather then living in the dark for the rest of his life, writing it off as random 'generalized male thinking' instead of understanding that he was in fact attracted to both genders. Was he proud now? He didn't know anymore and it felt like the turmoil in his heart was tearing him apart. This was the climax according to staff. The final battle before the healing process was completed and he would be crued of his disgusting thoughts. Of his attraction to boys and girls. From here he was only supposed to improve and learn that the only route he could take led to a domestic life with a wife and a couple of kids. Teaching them the same rules as Dabizaal had imprinted upon him, so only heterosexuality was viewed as right. Correct, pure. It made him feel sick to think about what he would be like without bisexuality if he fell into the correct place in the spectrum.

Yet..being bisexual had caused him this grief in the first place. He should hate the thought. Despise it by now and seek out the 'comfort' of being heterosexual or be doomed to go through the program again should his parents see it fit. Bile bubbled up in his throat at the very thought of being put back in that room. But he kept it down when the click of the doorknob being turned echoed out softly beneath the sound of the shower running. Nerves spiked briefly before he remembered that it was only Keith. Shoulders drawn up tight sagged in relief as the man confirmed as much by gently speaking in that raspy deep tone of his.

 _You are safe here_. Keith had said.

So Lance let his tired eyes drift closed and tilted his face into the heated water spraying from the shower head. Pushing his busted fingers through his hair with a silent breath while Keith moved as quiet as a mouse through the bathroom. The only hint to the fact that he was even still there was the squeak from the hinges of a cabinet and the rustling of plastic and towels as the dark haired man searched for the first aid kit likely. He didn't try to hold any more conversation and he didn't speak again. A small comfort he figured. Lance wasn't sure he really wanted to talk about it yet, even if he owed a story to the guy who had literally taken him in off the streets and saved his life by doing so. He just needed time to collect himself. Time to form thoughts and put emotions into proper places before he would inevitably have to unload this heavy burden on the people Keith was roommates with.

Once the program had taken a more intense road it was hard to really properly feel emotions and process what he was being told without going numb and breaking down. Sinking further and further into the cold waters of depression that stunted your limbs and silenced your will to do..well anything. The staff didn't care if he had slept in late or didn't want to move that day. He was out of bed by nine am with the chalky taste of pills in his mouth and salt from a breakfast of eggs and hashbrowns. However Keith didn't push. But he knew that the ones he lived with likely were out of curiosity they were allowed to have. The man had just brought a total stranger into their home claiming he could stay because he said so. Why wouldn't they ask questions and push for answers? Whomever they were..

The only one he had actually spoken to thus far was Shiro. A mountain of muscle that nearly gave Lance a heart attack for how large in stature he was. He looked like he could pose as those basic stone cold bouncers in any movie or book. Ready to throw you out when everyone was done with your shit.Yet his personality was anything but. He'd honestly been surprised when the man spoke and his tone was so silky smooth and gentle. Carrying no sharpness to that deep voice like he was always simply this open and welcoming. Matching the softness in his honey brown eyes. Shiro gave off this vibe that reminded him his older brother when he cooed at Lance to bring him down from a peaked state of stress or panic. It'd made his heart pang with an all to familiar cry of loneliness. He'd grown up around his family from the very beginning. He was use to having one or more people in the house and being damn near around them constantly from day one. This was the longest time he had been away from home and with no contact at all from himself personally. No texts, no phone calls..not even a letter. Just that morbid diary containing his swift downward spiral into this state of hollowness.

He hated how he felt. Hated how his skin felt so, foriegn and tight. Like this body wasn't even his anymore and his soul twisted in discomfort from being so torn to pieces. When this body should be his. When his heart should be comfortable singing its tune. He should of kept his mouth shut..hid like so many others. Maybe? Maybe he wouldn't be here. Maybe he would already be on his way to the college that he, Hunk and Pidge had been accepted into. Lance had never really been the wild child while growing up. Sure he got into your normal bouts of trouble as a kid by staying up to late looking at the stars or trying to finish catching that one annoying Chansey on pokemon that kept dashing away from you. He may have snuck out to the beach to surf early in the morning when he thought his absence wouldn't be missed after breakfast when he was twelve. He climbed trees and got stuck when his parents told him to stop doing that. Lance scuffed his knees, got dirty, broke a bone or two from his adventures throughout the years but he had never been a bold rule breaker. Clever yes, but he didn't go out seeking a fire whose heat would be to much for him. In fact the wildest thing he could claim to of gotten up to was taking a hit at a highschool party after a few shots and that had been plenty nerve wracking. Nothing was missed by his mother's sharp instincts.

So breaking out of a government run conversion facility? Going home with a stranger he only held trust for after the man had full bodily tackled him out of traffic? This was new territory for him and he didn't even have a form of back up communication encase things went hairy. All of the things he had carried on his person when he arrived at Dabezaal were still there. In a neat, tidy locker kept behind employee lines where it was virtually unreachable. Lance let out a slow shakey breath as his eyes watered once more. Burning tears threatening to fall while he rinsed off soap suds from his battered frame, and shampoo bubbles from the chocolate tones of his hair. Making sure he was squeaky clean and carrying not a trace of the stench from Dabizaal's sterile halls. Satisfied, he turned off the shower and climbed out of the tub onto the plush red rug at his feet.

That was another thing. For a guy who fit every moter cyclist cliche his space was kept well clean and organized. The counter space held the bare minimum when it came to necessity's such as hand soap and his tooth brush. Laid neatly by the sink by what looked like a trim kit for facial upkeep. Nothing really covered the walls minus a towel rack that held extra bottles of shampoo and conditioner, wash clothes and of course body towels. Lance didn't dare poke his nose into anything else as he dried his body off with the towel Keith had set out for him. It was soft and smelled like any basic flowery detergent but it was a bit of a comfort when he pressed it to his nose and just stood for a moment to oriente himself. Looking into the mirror at the sorry ass sight that greeted him. A frown already forming because the longer he looked the worse it appeared to be. The most notable of the bruising bloomed across his side where his fall had taken most of the weight on the ground. Tones of rich blue and the beginnings of violet had already rose to the surface and was tender to the touch. Giving his tan skin more color then it had had in weeks.

That was sad wasn't it?

He use to be dark and freckled from the sun but now? He looked pale, on the brink of death from being inside and under depressive stress so much. The usually vibrant blue tone to his eyes looked hollow when he dare to meet his own gaze in the mirror. Haloed with shadows from restless sleep.

"You're hideous." He mumbled, startling himself with how loud his voice sounded in the small warm space. Hideous and tired of being on this planet, yet his chest rose and fell with every breath his lungs automatically pulled in. Keeping him on his feet stubbornly. He was here, alive..safe for now anyways. Lance suspected that he had tonight to take a breather before facing the noise tomorrow. That was a logical assumption. So he figured he should use it. Laying the towel on the counter he pulled on the spare clothes that Keith had brought. A pair of joggers and a simple white t-shirt to go with it. Mechanically he pulled on each artical of clothing to cover up every mark beyond his hands and feet. At least the damages there were more easily fixed. That's what he told himself anyways. The raw open blisters on the bottoms of his feet and the torn skin on his fingers burned like fucking hell now. So he didn't waste any time in moving onto the first aid kit. Bringing it with him to the floor as he sat so he could tend to his feet first.

They looked better now that he had washed them. But the open sores were prominent more on the top arch of his feet beneath the toes then anywhere else. Easy he thought. Taking the tube of neosporin he squeezed some out onto his fingers and spread it around on each foot. Soothing the burn. Once they were effectively slathered he took some ace bandage and wrapped it securely around the entirety of his foot itself. Making sure it was snug. He only place bandaids on his heels and fingers. They weren't to bad but he didn't want to go touching anything and spreading germs or risk getting them infected. He did the same to his jaw line. Smearing a bit of neosporin along the tender scrapes and putting a bandaid over them to protect them. Once he was finished he picked up his trash and leaned over to drop it into the small waste bin sitting by the toilet. Taking his time in packing up the kit to store back beneath the sink once more where he assumed Keith kept it. With nothing left to keep him tethered to the relative quiet of the steamy bathroom he took the doorknob in hand and pulled it open with hesitation.

Peeking out into the hallway to find no one waiting beyond a shadow that passed along the wall from further down. Someone probably walking back and forth. He really wanted to run rather then try and communicate with the residents of the house over the guests but they were giving him a chance to stay here if Keith was successful. He owed them his attention. With aching feet he carried himself down the hallway. Following the natural curve of it and ignoring the other hall that branched of to the right in order to walk along the wall to the kitchen. He could hear more then just Keith and Shiro talking but their voices sounded non-hostile..so they had probably come to a general agreement. But he wouldn't know until he talked to them.

"You're okay.." he breathed quietly to himself before stepping around the corner and into the kitchen. Carefully picking his way to Keith who was the only one who had his back turned. Finding a sense of comfort under the curious and calculating pairs of eyes that had flown to him in a instant by standing close to the raven haired man even if he wasn't aware. He was the only one he knew here. The only ally he felt he had in this very present and awkward moment. At least, until the red head spoke up. Brandishing a solo cup that he held up to tilt the edge towards him. Lance's brows shot up in question because truly..he wasn't indicating it be taken by him did he? Not that it mattered. Keith turned around to face him, looking a little surprised more or less to see Lance there at all. But just as quickly as it came his expression shifted into something different. More nuetral as his attention roamed over the sun-kissed boy. As if he was checking him over again to make sure every piece of him had survived the trip through the shower.

"You look better." Keith said, taking the cup from the other man's hands to hold it out to Lance in a silent question. He looked into its contents to try and figure out what kind of concoction had been poured together within it. From what he could guess it was soda, probably coke or Dr. Pepper if he had to guess from the dark color. Regardless he took it with a timid touch and held it between both of his palms for a lack of what to do with his other hand. It was faintly cold to the touch.

"I feel a little better." He agreed, telling a small bit of truth. Physically he felt more relaxed after slathering himself in the body wash Keith kept on the shower rack. Something that smelled like cologne and looked exspensive none the less, but it'd been strong enough to knock the stench of sweat and medically coated halls from his skin. It was like he had left a part of Dabizaal behind already. However over all he still felt shaken and misplaced.

"Good." Keith said, taking a swig from the bottle he had in hand to polish it off it looked like. It was set atop the counter with the rest that already littered it's surface. It's precipitated surface clinked against what looked like an apple's ale but no one batted an eye at it.

"We came to some terms, but you can stay here tonight! Don't worry." Shiro added quickly when the boy stiffened to try and soothe him. But as those dull blue hues jumped to Adam and Matt he only got more tense. Lance lifted a single finger to plead for just a moment to prepare himself and when no one spoke? He lifted the plastic glass to his lips and swallowed the chilly liquid within. Whatever in it was sharp and potent, burning it's way down his throat alongside the coca-cola but he kept taking healthy gulps of it until the entire glass hit his stomach like a solid rock.

"Damn...there was two shots in that." the red head whistled, planting his hand on the counter as he lifted his own cup to generously sip at it. He could definitely taste it. Lance gave a half hearted shake of his head to knock away the flavor as his chest and face flooded with a soft heat.

"Okay..I'm ready now." He said, daring to lift his gaze. Keith looked surprised that he had chugged the entire glass but there was a small lift to the corner of his mouth.

"We'll let you stay tonight under the condition that you try and call someone from home tomorrow." An equally tall man with glasses explained, taking a step away from the counter to stand beside Shiro. Lance's stomach dropped at the words alongside with his face when he tilted his chin to look down.

Call home? What would he even say to his family when he told them that he had run away from from the facility? How mad would they be that he dropped it when he was close to being..normal? Even though he felt a million miles away from that. What if his mom answered and she burst into teara..?

"Hey, hey it's not a sentence to hell so try to relax okay?" The man piped back up, looking concerned at the panicked response. Was it written all over his face?

"We collectively agreed that your family should at least hear your side of the story and hopefully something can be worked out from there. They're your family first and formost." Adam continued to explain, keeping his tone firm but gentle. Every word only made him sicker as he eyed the plain white tile beneath his feet. A steady hand planted itself on his shoulder however, pulling Lance's eyes back up just when he'd begun to forget how to breath. It was Shiro. Looking determined but gentle more or less.

"All we're asking is that you try so we can make a plan of action from there, okay? We want to know how to help where we can." Shiro said, giving his shoulder a squeeze before letting go. It sounded so promising that Lance wanted to feel security in what they were assuring him. But all of the variable 'what if's' that threatened to overwhelm him made it impossible to find complete comfort. But he'd take what he could get so he took a breath and nodded. They were doing so much for him already by letting him stay and giving him options. This was the least he could do he told himself. The absolute very least.

"Okay..okay, I can do that." Lance breathed, biting at his lip to tamper down the emotion that threatened to squeeze the life out of him. "Thank you, for letting me stay here at all. I didn't want to go back..it's, fucking awful there - "

"We know." Keith broke in, "We've heard more then enough stories to know what goes on in there." He said, holding out his hand for the cup he had downed. Lance only realized then that he had been crushing it in his grasp. So he handed it off to Keith who tossed it in the trashed in exchange for a newly filled one that came from the red head once more.

"You're surrounded by allies here buddy. Aka myself, the ever generous Mattew" The male preened, hand gesturing to the one with glasses. "And Adam..of course." Adam settled a flat look at his lack luster introduction but chose not to comment.

"At any rate. Get something to eat if you're hungry and try to take a breather tonight. Pester Keith as much as you want for whatever you want because he's your designated host. Party rules." Adam explained as he moved to slip past them. Giving Lance reason to scoot closer to the man in question to make room for Adam to pass. Shiro gave him a smile as he followed after him while Matt raised his cup with a playful wink. Leaving just the two of them in the kitchen for now atleast.

"You hungry?" Keith asked after a moment, lifting a brow in his direction. Lance opened his mouth to say no, but his stomach rumbled in agitation. Reminding him of the fact that he hadn't eaten since breakfast yesterday. His face pinked when Keith snorted at the noise in amusement.

"I take that as a yes?" He smirked.

"I guess I am kind of hungry." Lance confirmed, watching as the raven haired man nodded before heading to a door placed on the opposite side of the kitchen. He opened it and pulled a light chord to caat light on what Lance realized was a pantry. It was probably one of the most organized pantries he had ever seen, no offense to his Mama. She tried to keep it orderly but between all of their family members coming and going from the house it tended to just stay messy. An organized chaos kind of mess Keith turned in a slow circle, contemplating what he could make before he settled on a thin blue box. He eyed it for a few seconds before holding it out for Lance to see.

"Mac and cheese?" He asked, it was such a simple part of any meal but he couldn't remember the last time ja had actually had it. Dabizaal's choice in meals were about as miserable as the atmosphere of the place. Everything had had little to no taste because it's only purpose was to keep you sustained. However that didn't mean they made sure you came to meals after breakfast. The most important one considering medication was handed out at that point. Eight am on the dot.

"I'm not a very gourmet cook..so this is as fancy as you're going to get this late at night." Keith said, looking a little sheepish as he turned to put the string to turn off the light once more. Closing the door after him as Lance jumped to correct himself.

"No! No it's..that's fine. I haven't had it since I was.." he drifted off, sliding his eyes to the side and then down to his glass rather. Keith understood however. Or he thought he had when he didn't press and instead went to one of the bottom cabinets to get a pot to cook it in.

"Forever? Well Shiro loves this shit so we have it often enough here." Keith said, turning on the tap to fill the pot with water. Eyeing the amount probably from pure habit Lance noted. Relaxing a little as he shuffled to lean back against the island that cut through the center of the kitchen.

"I don't mind. We didn't really have it alot at home either. My mama believed in home cooked meals were better then cheap snacks so, it was vegetables and fruit for us." Lance explained, lifting the cup to his lips to take a smaller sip of it's contents this time. It was still just as strong so his expression still scrunched a bit when it hit his tongue. But he wasn't one to complain when he was given something sort of free like this. He was just curious of what was in it more then anything. Not that he had much experience with different alcoholic drinks to begin with really. It was tradition that they took a single shot of tequila on birthdays as a family given you were a decent age of course. Lance was nineteen so he had only gotten to partake in it two times. But this didn't taste like tequila. So he assumed that it was one of the darker liquors.

"We're like that most of the time here. But everyone has their junk food preference." Keith replied, turning on the burner to a high eight to get the water boiling quicker. Once it was set he went to the fridge and plucked out another Dos bottle.

"Do you want to sit? There's bar stool on the otherside." Lance quietly slipped around to the other side of the island and sure enough there were a pair of barstools tucked beneath the over hang of the counter. Gratefully he pulled one out for himself and carefully slid onto it. Finding relief in getting off of his aching feet. They hurt. Burning constantly with every step, but that's what you got for running on concrete with bare feet. Having lost his slippers when he ran off the premises. Lance doubted they really would of protected him much though anyways. They were thin things. Meant to be worn on flat smooth surfaces inside rather then be turned into impromptu running shoes.

"How are your feet?" Keith asked, leaning over a clear spot on the opposite end of the island. Using his elbows to support himself as he tipped the green beer bottle up to take a swig from it. As if he had read Lance's trained of thought.

"They hurt like hell..not going to lie." Lance admitted, feeling his nerves melt away with the fuzzy heat that was beginning to set in from the alcohol. It made it easier to talk he felt.

"I bet." The other replied before letting the space they shared slip into a companionable silence. Or, as silent as it could get when cheers kept coming from the living room. Mixed with the beat of the music that thumped through the air. He recognized the song actually now that he was focusing on it to keep his mind from wondering. _Breezy_..by Tate he thought as he lifted his glass to knock back another more hefty swig. The first time he had heard this song he was at a highschool party.

Or that's what he had told his mom because genuinely at the beginning of the night that's what he thought. But one thing led to another and the girl he had been chasing after at the time brought him to what passed as every cliche college party you'd generally see on a movie or television drama show. Intimidation had been the first thing he'd felt when walking across the yard alone as clusters of people moved about or mingled on the lawn. However as soon as they walked through the door that never seemed to not be cluttered with people coming or going he'd felt...this dangerous thrill. An excitement for being somewhere he'd never been and a rush of boyish adrenaline because he had defied parental rules to get there. He couldn't even remember feeling nervous that his 'date', Nyma, vanished to hop across the room to greet her cluster of friends that he never quiet made it over to see.

Disappearing into the crowd? Becoming another face out of the hundred or so that was there had been easy. No one cared that his older sister was a class A student on her way to sailing out into the world with high score marks that she had spent her entire life working for. No one cared that Marco had been the 'every one knows guy' because his lax attitude was just that attractive to the world. No one even knew his name and that was something he wasn't use to make a long story short and get to the point. The Mcclain's roots stretched deeply and far into his home town due to how many members made up the family. On top of their general humbling persona and skill sets that people fell back on as an example. To the guy who had acted as his guide to the kitchen he was just 'blue eyes.' To the girl who poured him a sugary mix drink he was 'puppy'. For the cute ass brunette male who he had spent most of the night with being an ace at all varieties of drunkard games with he was 'Pineapples', due to the baby pink shirt he had worn with a faded pineapple on the front. It was freeing to no longer be known as one face amongst the Mcclain's and have a bar set that you must follow...

Maybe that was it? He was to different from the rest of his family that they had sought out a way to stamp him down before the world knew that Aleja Lance Sanchez McClain? Was bisexual. So they sent him to Dabizaal to be conformed..that way when he came back he would be like everyone else. Maybe they hadn't actually worried about his safety when he went to college but their reputation after all.

"Hey, just breath.." Keith's voice broke in through his spiraling thoughts. Bursting the noisy bubble like a needle to a balloon. Lance hadn't realized that his cheeks had grown damp with tears or that his lungs had begun to burn until that so-sure tone of voice called him back out into the present.

"I think that my family hates me - " Lance choked out, seeking any kind hope that it was the exact opposite of that in Keith's empathetic expression. What he got instead was a head of dark, thick hair shaking back and forth. Those tanzanite eyes darkening beneath the boiling furnace.

"There's no use trying to find a reason why when you don't know that for sure." Keith said firmly, speaking low enough that their conversation would stay between the two of them despite no one else being in the kitchen. It was just them and a pair of bowls holding steaming mac and cheese.

"B-But I do know. I-I saw it in their faces - in their body language." Lance hiccuped, stuttering over the dryness in his mouth and the tightness of his chest. His family was his everything. He'd grown up surrounded by them every day. Being nurtured and guided, encouraged to succeed and grow into whatever person he wanted to become. So why didn't they want him to be who he was meant to be now?

"Did they say it directly to you?" Keith asked fiercely, holding a finger up to shush Lance when he opened his mouth immediately to respond.

"Did they look you in the eye and tell you that they hated you, Lance." He asked a little more softly. Giving the sun-kissed cuban a moment to really think about it as Lance desperately dug through each memory he had of those terrible couple of days. No one had said 'hate'...no one. But just the way they had looked at him, spoke to him?

"See? So assume you know nothing..it'll, be easier that way for now." The other explained, drawing back alittle when he finally recieved a shaky nod from the brunette. Don't think about it. Don't _assume_  Lance told himself. Taking big breaths under Keith's watchful eyes until he felt that painful knot in chest began to unwind again. Making it easier to just _be_.

"I'm sorry.." Lance whispered, dropping his head so he could wipe at his face with the back of his hand without having to look at Keith to do it. He needed to get himself together before they got tired of his shit and threw him to the streets.

"Don't be. We all know what it's like here..just, try and eat a little." Keith encouraged, scooping a spoonful of the cheap cheesy noodles into his mouth to chew them. Lance wasn't hungry at all anymore but he knew that his stomach would be upset at him for it come tomorrow if he chose to be an ass and not eat. Besides Keith had gone to the trouble of making it even if it was just macaroni. Sniffling once more, he grabbed for the spoon the man had shoved into the midst of the noodles and took a bite of the still warm food with shaking hands. It was disappointing, bland to the tongue but he chalked it up to the fact that he was loosing his god damn mind under this stress. Because he could taste the lick of salt in it and the cheese that coated the elbow pasta. So he knew it was good he just..didn't want it. Didn't want anything but his mama to look at him with love again.

He wished for this nightmare to be over but he knew the likelyhood of that was still a far ways off. Regardless they ate together in silence for a moment as another person wondered in from the living room. Grabbing a few beers from the fridge before leaving as quickly as they had come. Eager to get back to their game. Lance dared to take another drink from his own mixture. Letting it hit his skull like a dense fog when the liquor melted hotly in his stomach. He just, wanted everything to go back to the way it use to be..

 

* * *

 

It's almost three am and the world is spinning in muted colors when Keith takes his hand and pulls him up from the spot at the end of the couch that he'd planted himself in a few hours earlier. He absently wondered how Keith can still lift him up from the floor like he's nothing when the man has had as much as him in the way of liquor.

Lidded blue hues drifting from the coarded muscle tightening in Keith's forearm as he pulls to the other's flushed but tired face. His lips are moving and someone laughing in response somewhere in the room before Lance realizes that the ravenette is talking to him. Swallowing hard and hoping his tongue doesn't move as thickly as it feels he tries to speak. His words come out slurred enough that he winces when he hears himself. Keith takes it in stride with a soft smile that morphs into a gentle raspy laugh. Gravely like his voice he notes.

"Come on, we're going to get to bed." He tells him, and it's only then that Lance realizes the living room has cleared out. Leaving behind empty bottles, solo cups and a television that's still humming away with Mario kart that's yet to be turned off. He didn't realize he'd been sitting there bobbing his head to music for so long. He feels silly. Like a child now beneath the heavy thrum of liquor coursing through his veins because it's knocked him off his rocker so badly. Once they had finished up their snack Keith had coaxed him to come out into the living room with the others. He'd been afraid to at first because he didn't know any of these people nor did he feel comfortable enough to cling to the men he had the names of out of his own awkwardness. Something he usually doesn't have to deal with but lately? He's not really been himself lately. It was Matt that had actually been the one to drag him into a game of wild colors and comical noises as racers wiped out or got shelled by their fellow players. He couldn't tell you who'd won or lost but he remembers feeling a little prideful for the position in the cup he had taken. As a reward the redhead had made him another drink.

From there he had tucked himself away. Sitting on the soft carpet and leaning against the couch to nurse the new cup of shit the man had thrown together. Time flew then apparently without Lance acknowledging as much and it's both alarming and numbing. Like how the rest of his feels currently. Buzzing, flushed but blessedly silent.

"Here." Matt says, taking the cup that Lance is holding loosely in his hand away to set it on the coffee table with the rest. "We don't need any party fouls when the party's out." He chuckled and Lance only has the good sense to nod in agreement before the world feels like it's tipping. Taking his body with it for a terrifying moment before Keith has his other hand gripping at his shoulder. Steadying him again like he weighs like nothing.

"This way.." the other hums, pulling Lance into his side so that he could help guide him through the halls a little more sturdily. Shiro and Adam babble a little as they pass but it's all becoming white noise as he focuses on dragging his feet across the floor. Every step into the darkened hall and closer to wherever they plan to hole him up for the night makes him feel more tired by the second. Keith flicks on the bedroom light with a muted click of the switch, temporarily blinding his vision with the brightness before his eyes adjust. Falling to the rumbled bed that Keith leads him into sitting on. The sheets are soft beneath his sore hands. Something he must of said out loud because Keith snorts.

"You can sleep here tonight. I'll take the couch." Keith says, pulling the blankets that were haphazardly thrown across the bed this morning to appear made, back. Giving Lance room to curl him when he prompts the man to by taking his shoulders and gently pushing him back into the mattress. The sun-kissed boy squirms until his head is comfortably tucked on one of the pillows Keith has and the other pulls the blankets up to his shoulder. Then he moves away. Going to the closet to pull another spare blanket down before going about making up his own sleeping arrangements. Taking a pillow from the bed somewhere behind Lance and setting it on the couch that hugs the wall at the end of the bed. He's quiet as he unfolds the blanket. Shaking it out and tossing it over the couch before coming back within briefly plug in his phone at the bedside table.

"Get some sleep." Keith murmurs, only turning away when Lance nods mutely at him in response. Burying his nose into the blankets as the lights goes off and Keith shuffles around on the couch to find a comfortable position before going still. It's quiet but not in such a sharp way like it had been at Dabizaal. The air conditioning hums and crickets chirp obnoxiously outside. Keith's breaths fall into a slow, even pace and his heart thumps in his ears out of content over fear..

..and somehow? The scent coating the soft blanket pressed against his nose is soothing. Musky from the barest hints of cologne, but largely smelling of that same laundry detergent. It reminds him of home as he begins to drift off beneath the heavy dregs of his buzzing mind. Feeling comfortable for the first time in weeks..


End file.
